The baby girl is nine months old today. She’s growing up so quickly, having so many milestones so quickly.

I’m looking at her face today and I still can’t believe that I could ever love someone so much. Nine months later she still shocks me.

And now instead of a year to get to know her, I have three months until I go back to work. I want to go back to work, I do, I’m excited about getting back into that world – I just wish I could take her with me.

We visited our first potential day care last week. We went on a tour and we asked questions and everything was fine until we got back to the car and started talking about the pros and cons of the place. Then, suddenly, without ever seeing it coming, I was a blubbering mess.

I love my days with her. I love talking to her. I love cuddling her and walking with her. I love experiencing her new experiences. I love just watching her. I know everything good that will come from sending her to a place with real teachers, ECE workers, other kids, older kids. I know how she will flourish in such a place.

But this morning she slamed a lid down on her hand and I was there to cuddle her and comfort her like I’m supposed to be.

I never wanted to be a stay at home mom. Joe and I even talked about him taking paternity leave to stay at home for the first year when he was in his old job. I never wanted this.

But I’m going to miss it so very much.

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